After a restless night, Ethan went for a run under the pale, overcast morning sky, no sun, no rain, neither cold nor warm. This in-between weather made the air in the shelter even more somber. He stood silently for a while, eyes fixed on the damp ground where faint footprints were still visible in the sand, as if gauging something invisible. The forest breeze carried with it the damp scent of soil, the sharpness of tree resin, and the lingering, faintly metallic odor from the leopard meat that had been hung to dry outside their shelter.
Behind him, the rustling of footsteps began to stir. Everyone was waking up, mostly pulled from sleep by hunger. They had eaten through most of the leopard meat they’d hunted days ago. Ethan knew exactly, over two-thirds of it was gone. The remaining meat,
